hope (an ember stubbornly clinging to life)
by aqaws321
Summary: The rebellion does not start with Katniss. The rebellion does not start with Rue. The rebellion starts with Prim.


The rebellion does not start with Katniss.

The rebellion does not start with Rue.

The rebellion starts with a wail piercing the cold air of spring and a spot of hope and happiness in the otherwise bleak moment-hour-day-week-month-year-decade-forever, an addition that makes the house a tiny bit smaller and their hearts a tiny bit larger.

The rebellion starts with a child learning how to walk, her toddling steps the first steps of something that will encompass the world. She stumbles and falls, and there is a moment where everything falters, but she pushes herself up and keeps going, pushing doggedly against the biting wind and any that oppose her.

The rebellion starts with flowers gathered from cracks in the pavement and presented to parents and siblings, adding color to their life in the only way she knows how.

The rebellion starts with grief, with a tragic accident, with coldness and dullness that comes with the aching loss of family.

The rebellion starts with love, burning deep in the hearts of two sisters that look out for each other in the absence of a mother that is only there in body.

The rebellion starts with a sacrifice, with a tiny piece of metal and and a whistled anthem, with screams of terror and anger and pain and rage.

She laughs, and hope grows brighter and stronger for a moment, a flame leaping and dancing- and then the wind beats it down to an ember that flickers and grows colder, but clings to warmth with every scrap of strength that it has to offer.

The rebellion starts with Prim.

* * *

The rebellion is not sustained by Katniss.

The rebellion is not sustained by Gale.

The rebellion is sustained by the bright eyes of their youngest members, the way they are brought to tears with laughter by the sister of a Victor.

The rebellion is sustained by a cat chasing a beam of light, by simple joys and happiness.

The rebellion is sustained by two sisters dancing, love burning deep in their hearts, a Mockingjay holding a Primrose.

The rebellion is sustained by music and singing and kindness and children growing too old too quickly. By doctors that should be playing the games of childhood, by those who administer the aid they know that's been passed down in their family and that should never have seen anything like this, like the blood and pain and horror and tragedy of war.

War is not a series of Games, it is not something to be entertained by, it is not something to pay for and bet on and enjoy and treat as entertainment. This has been forgotten for too long, and a time approaches when reality will come pouring back, wiping away the sins of those who began traditions of bloodlust in a cleansing flood of violence and death.

Embers become flames if they refuse to let anything stand in their way.

The rebellion is sustained by Prim.

* * *

The rebellion does not end with Katniss.

The rebellion does not end with Peeta.

The rebellion ends with a funeral, mourning the loss of their children and their enemy's children alike.

The rebellion ends as the funeral dirge starts, as the last echoes of the bomb fade away, as they realize they've seen their children for the last time.

The rebellion ends with the realization that their hero, their figurehead, their symbol of fierceness and courage that stands tall and proud and unbroken is shattered, jagged edges and broken smiles and despair and sadness all that remain.

The rebellion ends when they realize they've won, that they've chased victory and seized it and held it high above the tattered remains of war, but the last casualties were not men and women that chose to fight in this war, they were the children that knew that their very survival hinged on the outcome of the battles they were fighting, willing or not.

There is pain, there is death, there are men and women that are suffering and wounded and children who will not live to see the next day, families left broken and and ripped apart, but there is the promise of something better in the future.

The rebellion ends with a scream that speaks of the love between two sisters, of heartbreak and support and faith and bravery and courage and sacrifices and aching sadnesses and love.

Primrose means youth, and flames that burn high and bright die out soon after they first come to life.

The rebellion ends with Prim.


End file.
